But if she left, her mother would lose everything. The accounting firm…her livelihood.
How was she supposed to choose?
She could look for another position in Seattle later, but the team was the best. Going anywhere else would be an admission of defeat. She’d start in a hole and have to prove herself all over again. It would take dozens of deals before every attorney, broker, and peon quit thinking they could pull a fast one on her.
And for what? To make the partners richer? The team members were well paid, but it was a fraction of what the principals raked in.
She buried her face in her hands. What did she want? Really want? She’d always believed it was her career and everything that came with it. Challenge, respect, affluence. But it was all an illusion.
Step away and it vanished.
Remove the job and she had nothing.
Tears filled her eyes. Blindly, she grabbed a tissue.
Her independence amounted to nothing more than solitude. She’d end up an old lady at the senior center, recycling used greeting cards.
She dropped her hands and glared at the office around her. Why was she killing herself bailing out her parents, anyway? Her father deserted them. Her mother blew off an important meeting without explanation. Did they even care if Desert Accounting prospered?
Holly dragged in a deep breath and released it.
She cared about the business. She’d done solid work for the clients, trained the staff to handle the more challenging assignments, and built the firm’s reputation. Other local companies were noticing.
What if she stayed?
She flattened her hands on the desk and stared straight ahead, stunned she’d even considered the possibility.
After a beat, she measured the pros and cons. The bookkeeping side of the business—her mother’s realm—brought in steady income, but it defined boredom. It was the project work that challenged her. Working with clients, getting to know them and their business needs, added a surprisingly satisfying aspect to her professional life. With the mergers and acquisitions team, the owners had simply been interchangeable faces eager to sell for the largest pile of dollars possible.
She shot to her feet. What was she doing even thinking about staying in Richland? She didn’t know for sure that her real job was in jeopardy. She was jumping to conclusions with no evidence to support the theory—the mark of a rank amateur.
Until her boss told her she no longer had a position with the team, she refused to worry about Erica or who did what on the latest transaction back in Seattle.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The clatter of a dozen conversations filled the restaurant where Holly was meeting a friend for lunch. The newest restaurant in town, Fat Olive was doing a brisk business. She bypassed the hostess and slid into a seat facing a rangy blond man. “I’m buying, since you’re about to give me free legal advice,” she declared without preamble.
Walt laughed. “Consider it payback for the client you sent me last month.”
They’d gone out twice before deciding they made better friends and business colleagues than a couple. After ordering—calzones and a Coke—Walt asked, “What am I giving you free advice about?”
“Divorce.”
He raised an eyebrow, questioning, since she clearly didn’t need the advice. A moment later he said, “Ah, your parents.”
Her parents. Marcy and Lee. Take your pick.
He sipped his pop, then continued, “It’s called dissolution of marriage in Washington. I’m surprised your parents don’t already have temporary orders in place.”
“Temporary orders?”
“For starters, either of them could’ve filed a motion to keep the other from cleaning out their investment account or changing beneficiaries on insurance policies or retirement plans.”
“I’m not sure Mother knows to do that.”
Walt shrugged. “If she has halfway competent legal counsel, they would’ve taken care of it. Who’s representing her?”
“I don’t know.” She pulled out her phone and made a note to find out.
Had Marcy put anything in place? Was that what had angered Lee? She really needed to talk to Yessica.
Their food arrived and they ate while continuing the conversation.
“As far as living expenses go,” Walt said, “both your parents are capable of working.”
“I don’t know what my father’s situation is. Job-wise. Could he really ask for alimony?”
“It’s called maintenance here.” He tapped his finger on the table, thinking. “He can ask. If your mother disagrees, it’ll be up to the court.”
“Wait a minute.” Holly laid down her fork. “You mean I could be over here, busting my butt, and end up having to support him while he’s playing Downward-Facing-Dog?”
He fought a smile and lost. “Never heard it described in quite those terms.”
“Yoga. Instructor.”
The smile changed to a grimace. “Ah.”
Her mother had ducked the issue for too long. As much effort as Holly was putting into growing Desert Accounting, she wanted to know where her parents’ marriage—and company—were headed. “What about their assets? Will Mother have to give him half?”
“Washington’s a community property state. At least in theory, everything either spouse earns while they’re married belongs to both of them.”
“What about the new business I’ve brought in?”
He rocked his hand in a maybe motion. “Ultimately, the division’s up to the courts. Your mother could claim it’s separate property. But both of them worked there and it sounds like the company grew while they were married. She might have a hard time making that stick.”
“But he cheated on her and walked out. That doesn’t seem fair.”
“‘Fair’ doesn’t matter. The court doesn’t have to divide things fifty-fifty. The judge tries to be equitable.”
Holly wanted the information about her parents, but Marcy and Lee faced the same challenge. Devon said Lee had sold his company for twenty million. Could a guy like Lee really fork over ten million? “It doesn’t matter who actually did the work?”
He shook his head. “It’s all community property.”
“What if one of them wasn’t working while they were married?”
“If one spouse stays home and takes care of that side of the couple’s life instead of holding an outside job, the courts take that into consideration.”
Holly made another note to contact Yessica. If Marcy had a good attorney, most likely Lee would’ve had to pay her alimony or maintenance and a substantial settlement. Both would’ve been next to impossible for a wife-beating, control-freak to agree to.
With Marcy dead, he wouldn’t have to give up anything.
“How are you doing?” Walt asked. “Doesn’t matter how old we are, parents splitting up is hard.”
She was tempted to unload her worries, but innate caution held her back. Instead, she escaped the personal questioning with a woman’s all-time favorite excuse. “Excuse me a minute. I need to use the restroom.”
The restrooms were located down a short hall behind the reception area. As she angled across the seating area, a woman called, “Holly.”
She scanned the restaurant, then zeroed in on a well-dressed blonde. Nicole sat with several of her friends—polished women who looked as though their only job was the care and feeding of their husbands’ careers. She’d been vaguely surprised to find the type on the east side of the Cascades, but then again, it did tend to be conservative territory over here. Except the way Nicole blew through money—and given the way they were dressed, apparently her friends did too—could hardly be called conservative.
Holly approached the table. One of the women looked familiar, but she couldn’t place the other two. Tim’s wife wore wool slacks and a cashmere turtleneck, but under-eye shadows marred her usually flawless complexion.
Should she offer congratulations? Tim said they hadn’t told anyone yet about
the pregnancy. If Nicole had previously confided in her, Holly would’ve mentioned it, but she didn’t feel close enough to the woman to bring it up.
Nicole didn’t bother to introduce the other women. Instead, she asked, “Are you seeing Walt Chambers? I thought you and Alex were exclusive.”
“Walt and I are discussing business.” Not that it was any of Nicole’s business.
“Ah, your parents’ divorce. How are you handling that?”
This conversation—even if Nicole were a friend, which she wasn’t—wasn’t one Holly would ever have at a restaurant in front of strangers. “It won’t affect business.”
“Wow. You need to stop obsessing about work.” Nicole smiled at her friends. A smile that added, Can you believe this?
“When it’s something you enjoy, it hardly seems like an obsession.”
“Is that why you give your clients such…personal…attention?” Nicole again glanced at the other women. “Aren’t your husbands her clients?”
She turned back to Holly. “Do they get the same kind of ‘handling’ you give Tim?”
Bitch.
Even Nicole’s friends looked startled. The brunette Holly sort of recognized gave her an appraising look.
Damn if she’d let Nicole run off business she’d worked so hard to bring in.
“My clients respect my business ability.” Holly walked away with her head held high, but the restroom mirror confirmed a deep blush colored her cheeks.
When she returned to the table, Walt asked, “What was that about?”
“I’m not entirely sure. Nicole seems to like rubbing my nose in the fact that I’m not married or part of the pampered crowd.”
Walt gave Nicole an assessing inspection. “She’ll be singing a different tune when she gets served.”
“Served? You mean divorce, er, dissolution papers?” Holly’s mouth dropped open. She turned and stared at Nicole before remembering she should be discreet. “Tim’s divorcing her? Are you allowed to tell me that?”
“Tim isn’t my client.” Walt shrugged. “Another attorney delivered the papers to the service at the same time I dropped some off. I don’t know if he’s served them yet.”
“If he has, Nicole has balls of steel. So does Tim, for that matter.” She glanced at the women’s table and found Nicole watching intently, as if trying to figure out what they were discussing. “They were doing their lovebird routine at Marcy’s wake.”
Walt shrugged. “Appearance and reality. Did you know your parents were having problems?”
She raised her hand, palm up. “I live in Seattle. Other than holidays, we talked on the phone.”
Walt shot another glance at Nicole. “She’s either taking it incredibly well or else she hasn’t been served.”
Holly picked at her calzone. “What if Tim changed his mind? Decided not to divorce her?”
“It happens. Counseling, whatever. People work things out. Sometimes it’s more convenient to stay together.”
She peeked at Nicole, rather disconcerted to find Nicole was still watching them.
What if Tim had decided to stay with Nicole because of the pregnancy?
But if he did, where had that left Marcy and her baby?
Chapter Twenty-nine
Tracey handed Holly a stack of pink message slips when she returned from lunch. “You had a visitor.”
Still wondering about Tim and Nicole, Holly flipped through the slips of paper. “And?”
“He was…intense.”
She shifted her attention to Tracey. “Client?”
“No. He wouldn’t leave his name, just said he’d be in touch.”
“He didn’t say what it was about? What did he look like?”
Tracey shuddered. “I’d say tall, dark, and handsome, but there was something about him that made me nervous.”
Holly lowered her hand, her fingers tightening around the message slips. She ran the Rolodex in her head. What scary guy did she know that Tracey didn’t? Creepy Security Guy? Frank? Lee Alders? “If he shows up again, call the police.”
Tracey blinked. “The police?”
Closing her eyes, Holly shook her head. “Okay, that sounded nuts. Or paranoid. Use your judgment. You read people well.”
Still clutching the messages, she wandered down the hall to her office. A messy stack of papers sat in the center of her desk. The attached message, written on Stevens Ventures letterhead, read, “I found these papers when I cleaned out Marcy’s desk. I didn’t know what to do with them.”
Holly gave the pile a disgruntled glare. What exactly was Tim paying this woman to do? Make her life miserable?
After tucking her purse—a vintage Gucci—into her desk, Holly went through the pile of papers, sorting them into company piles. Several documents concerned the four new LLCs, and others connected to yet another new company.
Why all the new companies?
She placed the operating company information aside for Sammy. Staring at the unknown entities, she tapped her nails against her desktop. She had some time before the meeting with Bruce Fairchild—assuming her mother showed up. Yesterday’s vague, “I got a phone call,” didn’t begin to explain why her mother had ducked the Zhang meeting.
Holly crossed the atrium to Stevens Ventures. An attractive brunette, the woman she’d last seen cozying up to Phoua and the Shrimp, sat at the reception desk filing her nails. A new, triangular brass nameplate sat on the desk. It said, “Kaylin.”
“May I help you?” Kaylin asked.
Holly introduced herself. “I have a few questions, if you have a minute.”
“I’m so glad you’re here.” The woman dropped the nail file in the drawer. “I found another stack of financial stuff. Do you want to take it with you, or should I drop it off?”
Was she serious? “Usually the documents are more organized,” Holly hinted.
Kaylin held up crossed index fingers, as though warding off a fate worse than death. “Tim hired me for property management. He mentioned some bookkeeping, but I made sure he only meant records related to the actual property.” She waved a manicured hand. “Rents, regime fees, the usual. I don’t mind helping out. I mean, see? I’ll sit up here when Brea goes to lunch, but I don’t do bookkeeping.”
“I’m confused.” Holly propped a hand on her hip and wrinkled her brow. “Tim told me he’d hired someone to fill Marcy’s position.”
“Marcy? Was she the woman who died?” Kaylin quirked her mouth to the side. “Poor thing. Men sure used her.”
“Used? You mean, took advantage?” Men? Or did Kaylin mean Tim specifically? “I don’t understand.”
Kaylin leaned forward. Her voice dropped to a confidential level. “Tim dumped some project management responsibility on her for the retrofit in Yakima. I hate to say bad things about someone who died, but it’s clear she didn’t know what she was doing.”
“Really?” That was strange. Holly was surprised Tim let Marcy get in over her head.
Kaylin straightened, taking on an aggrieved expression. “Half the permitting and inspection requests got rejected because the paperwork was wrong.”
Surely, Tim wouldn’t knowingly jeopardize his buildings. Why would he let Marcy take on the remodeling project if she couldn’t handle it?
“I had to redo the PERT charts, figure out what should’ve been done, and rework what was done.”
Kaylin rattled off a litany of woes. Holly made sympathetic noises while her mind churned. Why was Tim burying Marcy in work? Could something be happening with the Yakima project a more experienced property manager would recognize? Or was he hoping to keep her so busy she wouldn’t have time to notice the financial discrepancies? And what about the new companies?
Marcy might not have picked up on weirdness with the Yakima project, but she definitely would’ve noticed the new companies.
And asked about them.
“Even if I was remotely interested in bookkeeping,” Kaylin continued, “I wouldn’t have time to touch it. God, I
hope it isn’t as screwed up as my paperwork is.”
“It isn’t messed up. There’s just a lot to go through before I meet with Alex and Tim tomorrow.”
Think positive. Maybe Tim wanted to help Marcy move into a new field.
Or maybe it was simply cover for all the trips she made to Yakima. With a sinking heart, Holly wondered if Marcy actually went to Yakima, or if the trips were just an excuse to spend time with Tim?
“If you’ll pack up the papers you found, I’ll take them with me,” Holly said. “We can get the QuickBooks download and pull the trial balance, but I need a starting point for the new entities.”
“I know the financial stuff is important, but you might as well be speaking Chinese. I don’t have a clue what that means.”
Holly got a sudden idea. “How about I pull the records in Marcy’s, I mean, your office? I can get the information on the new companies and see what needs to be filed before the end of the year.” There. Brilliant.
Kaylin shrugged. “Sure. Let me set the phone to auto.” She mashed a few buttons on the console and rose to her feet.
Holly followed the woman through the familiar hallway. Developers started new entities all the time. Typically there was a separate corporation for each development project. Separate legal entities shielded the rest of the business if anything went wrong. Problems at one development didn’t create a liability for the others. Maybe Tim started the new companies, planning ahead to when pent-up demand for housing and office space returned with a better economy.
With a lighter heart, Holly entered Marcy’s former office with Kaylin trailing behind. There wasn’t anything ominous about the messed-up paperwork or the volume of unfiled and disorganized documents. Marcy had simply been buried in learning a new job and got behind with the bookkeeping part.
Twenty minutes later, Holly closed the last file cabinet. “Nothing.” Damn.
The metal drawers contained only the normal information related to the existing operating companies. “Tim started five new companies. Where’s the paperwork?” she asked Kaylin. “Not the current statements you sent over. The permanent files. Incorporation. Property. That stuff.”
For Love of Money Page 19
